


Line the pieces up

by sour_apples



Series: Buttons and Headphones [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, M/M, Other, This is sort of a mix of itsv and web warriors canon, but see it as you like:)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-01-04 05:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sour_apples/pseuds/sour_apples
Summary: When Miles and Hobie find themselves on the wrong Earth, they're forced to spend more than just the span of a brief mission together. That, and Miles runs into someone who, in a different time and place, is long gone. Awfully, this leaves Hobie as the voice of reason.





	1. Chapter 1

     Universe jumping is a bit of a tricky situation. Not only does it always,  _ always _ ,  **always** make Hobie’s head ache like hell, but it’s a very faulty science. No matter how fancy any of the spider-smartasses make the goobers, in the end they still have a hefty amount of mistakes.

 Off the top of his head, Hobie could give you a few pretty good examples. 

They clung to his wrist tight enough to leave bruises, they weren’t fighting-friendly, they ran out of battery too quickly, they decided to shut off at random times, and….

  They worked terribly under heat. Anything above room temperature practically fried them. Whenever they did, chances were you went into a portal and where spit back somewhere that wasn’t what you had asked for.

Which explains his situation, right this moment. 

 Hobie gracefully tumbles to his feet, but a millisecond later Miles jumps out of a different portal and slams straight into a wall. He peels of it like a sticker before falling straight into the dumpster underneath him. When Hobie watches the other boy climb out weakly and fall to the ground with a thud, he doesn’t bother trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, really?”

 Miles jumps with a squeak and turns to Hobie, and almost falls over again before he can say what he wants to. Hobie debates making fun of him a little, but opts to ask the question on the front of his mind instead.

  “Dude- why’d you follow me here?”   
“Uh, I didn’t? Why are you in my universe?” The eyes of Miles’ suit shrink into slits as he rubs his sore back and climbs up to meet Hobie. 

 The punk seems disinterested before he rolls his eyes and pulls his goober to his face. The thing blinks to life after he types into the password (which for the record is hella fucking hard to do with elastic gloves) and goes to show Miles to prove himself.   
“No, look-, fuck.” Miles leans in to look at the number on the now disgruntled Hobie’s wrist, and groans out similarly. He looks down at the number on his own goober.

“Did they fry again? It wasn’t even that hot out there.”   
“I know, these are so fucking wonky.”

“Earth 616. Hey- isn’t this Peter’s universe?”

“Think so.”

  As if on cue, the both of them look up. Above them one of New York’s many skyscraper flat screens replays a video of some news feed, clearly of the neighborhood spidey and small muggers. Right off the bat Hobie knows it’s their main Peter, because of his fighting style and suit.

 But the confirmation that they are in fact both misplaced does nothing but make Hobie want to grind his teeth straight into his skull. It’s not that the setback really gets in the way of anything, but he despises mishaps like this when he could be doing anything else. 

Looking around some more, Hobie takes it in after becoming a little more aware of his surroundings. The place they’re in looks like New York, of course it does.

But it’s not either of  _ their _ New York- he knows because the number of their devices aren’t matching up with their respective earths. 

“Ugh. Great.” Hobie kicks the dumpster Miles had fallen halfheartedly, and doesn’t flinch when it stubs his toe. 

“Should I call Peter?” There’s a crack in Miles’ voice,like he’s almost embarrassed that they wound up here instead of their universes. Hobie doesn’t really bring his full attention to the other Spider-Man, but he thinks on it.

The image of dear old Petey coming to their rescue came to his mind...so no, that wasn’t an option. As chill as their friend could be, Hobie so did not want to sit and listen to another one of the man’s lectures on taking care of their top-tier technology. It wouldn’t be so bad, if their goobers didn’t also have top-tier failures Peter would blame on them. “Um, no.”

“Why not?”   
“Because I can fix it myself?”

“Wait, really? When did you learn to fix stuff?”   
“I’m more than just a punk exterior and rage, asshole.” Hobie cuts in, glaring at Miles. It comes out more snarky than he had intended, but it still got the message across.

“Oh. Right. Super smart inventor, along with the Spider-man gig. Got it.” Miles shrugs. Even under his mask Hobie can sense Miles’ sheepishness. But it doesn’t matter, so Hobie doesn’t focus on it.

  What does matter is that they get home, because being in Peter’s universe without warning felt a little wrong. Like trespassing, and even if Hobie the squatter was used to trespassing, it still wasn’t cool to show up unannounced at a friend’s house.

 “Let’s get somewhere a little higher, so we aren’t spotted first. Then I can get to work and fix it.” 

“Right!”   

Hobie turns in a random direction, and starts swinging. He doesn’t need to look back and check to know Miles is right behind him. 

Within five minutes they’re both perched on top of a decently-sized skyscraper. Hobie finds himself a dry and not-covered-in-pigeon-shit ledge to sit on for the moment, and looks up to Miles. 

“Gimme your goober man.” Although Miles snorts at the sentence, he does as he’s asked and slips the device off. As Miles gives it to him Hobie does the same, and takes both of them in his hand to inspect them. After a second of intent staring, Hobie takes off his mask to get a better view. 

“No major damage on the outside, so that’s good,” He hums to himself, holding his own goober up to the sunlight. After he pops off the underside of one to run analytics or something, Miles pretty much tunes out completely. If Hobie notices he doesn’t care, just keeps thinking out loud and groaning at the situation. 

He slumps down next to Hobie and picks at the concrete ledge idly.

But as basically the only thing Miles can look at, he’s starting to stare at Hobie. And notice things, about his face. 

Specifically how pretty Hobie is. Like seriously, he just has a really nicely shaped-face. And his hair is so curly and soft-looking, Miles wonders what it would feel like between his fingers. That and the hairstyle just suits him, with the loose curls in the front framing him nicely.  ….For a brief second Miles stupidly wonders why Hobie has to hide behind his mask when they all go out for crime-fighting, because it’s basically a crime itself that he has to cover up such a pretty face. But after a second of critical thinking skills he re-understands though, when he bleakly remembers the concept of secret-identities.  Despite how sad this makes him, he lets his eyes wander again. To Hobie’s. 

Hobie has pretty eyes. Insanely pretty, in fact. They’re dark, and black. Miles thinks there might be a few shades of soft browns/hazels in there, but he isn’t close enough to really confirm it…, but yeah. That and Hobie’s  _ eyebrows _ are really thick, but he makes it work. The intensity suits him. 

But yeah, there was no denying it. Hobie was downright handsome. 

“Yo, shitforbrains, you hear any of that?” 

  Oh shit, his pretty eyes are looking up now, at him. And his lips are moving, so he’s probably talking. He didn’t hear  _ any _ of that. Miles feels his cheeks warm slightly for being caught staring, but luckily he still has his mask on. 

 “Sorry, what?”

Hobie just deadpans, and yawns. He looks bored to be dealing with the things he usually leaves to the others to fix, but annoyed enough to frown slightly. “To get these to work again, I’m gonna need to reboot them, and they’ll probably take time to start up again.” He sets both down on the ledge next to him and looks back to Miles. 

“How long you thinking?” 

“I mean, they’re overheating. I’m guessing that’ll take like two hours and a half for cool-down time,” Hobie frowns at the concrete in front of him like the building itself had blighted him. “Fuck, these stupid ass malfunctions get in the way of almost everything, I swear to god.”

“Shit.” Miles agrees. 

      Hobie lifts an eyebrow. It isn’t often when Miles curses, because according to him it would ‘hurt his Mami’s soul’, but when he does he says it like he’s scared his dad’s going to find him and ground him for saying it. Even all the way out here, in a different universe. The thought makes Hobie chuckle. 

“We don’t really have much of a choice but to wait until I get them fixed n’ booted.”   
“Seems like it,” Miles, “So what do you gotta do to get them fully rebooted?”

And instantly, Hobie goes on a rant again about the tech. To Miles it sounds like a whole lot of nothing, because it sounds like his honors algebra class. But of course Hobie gets it, because he gets everything. Stupid beautiful talented punks. 

“O….kay,” He nods, even if it all had gone out through another ear again.  

Hobie gets to work, and Miles watches him go.

And now, they wait.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment drags on, and Hobie finds himself checking the time on his phone over and over. It’s only been thirty minutes since he got the rebooting process up and running, and he’s already bored enough to shoot his own foot for fun. 

   It wasn’t like the situation, life threatening or anything.  At least not yet. 

It was just staying in one place like this wasn’t really Hobie’s hyperactive style. And the fact that Miles asked him for the time every few seconds like a little kid asking ‘are we there yet?’ wasn’t helping. If anything it soured his mood even further, just because it made time drag on longer. 

   Miles eventually seems to scramble up enough tact to notice this though, and when he speaks up again it isn’t to ask about the time.

   “Wanna listen to music?” The boy in question fiddles with headphones between his fingers, head cocked to one side. His mask lays dejected on the floor. 

   Hobie blinks. How did he even get reception here? 

   “Sure. What're you listening to?” Scooting closer, he sits close enough to Miles so that he can put in one of the other boy’s headphones into his ear. 

   It’s turned up so loud that he doesn’t hear Miles’ answer, but Hobie respects that. The song currently playing has a very simple but admittedly catchy beat. The word ‘sunflower’ sticks out to him as one of the main lyrics, if only because Miles sings along brokenly. 

  “Your taste sucks,” Hobie laughs, mean and loud. Scrolling up Miles’ spotify playlist, he squints. “Do you listen to anyone other than ‘Juice wurld’ and Post Malone?” It’s meant to be an insult, but Miles just smiles wider. 

  “Yeah! Russ!” 

   “A single artist. Bravo. You listen to to  _ three _ different musicians. Good job Miles. Astounding.”   
   “Hey, I have a wide music range! It’s just that I have my favorites.” 

   “Hm. Name at least three more then.” 

   “Frank Ocean, Kevin Abstract, uh…,” Miles blanks. 

   “Seriously?” Hobie practically snorts at that, and rolls his eyes.   
   “W-well it’s not my fault! You’re putting me under a lot of pressure right now,” Miles crosses his arms and huffs. “I’m not a musician like you.” He smiles, and Hobart feels like rolling his eyes.

  “Uhuh, whatever. Variety is the spice of life, man. Here, lemme pick something out.” Hobie leans in and taps the top of Miles phone, but Miles pulls it away before he can select anything. 

   “I don’t know, the stuff you listen to is really hardcore.”

   “That’s the point.” 

   It’s not much of a fight. Miles just snorts and says, “Fine, but turn it down first before you blow out my eardrums.” 

   Hobie feels himself grinning like an idiot when Miles hands his phone over. He makes a show of pressing the down volume button before he turns and looks at the app. 

   It takes Hobie a hot minute to navigate, because he doesn’t have a phone and typing in the stupid letters takes more time than he admits. But, he gets there, and selects a song with a bright red banner attached to it.

   “Minor threat?” Miles reads out, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t not enjoy it though, just puts his phone back on the ledge in between them, so their headphones go undisturbed.  

   “One of my favorites,” Hobie explains. “They’ve been around since 1980. Before you or I were even born, dude. They’re straight edge as fuck.” Hobie continues along with the song, fingering at the air instead of his guitar back at home.

   “Whazzat?”   
   “What, you mean straight edge?”   
   “Yeah.”

   “They don’t do drinking or drugs or anything. It’s not about the ‘party punk’ lifestyle for them, but about the message for their music.”

   “Oh. Sweet.” The other spider-man grins. “It’s not really my thing, but I like it.” Hobie watches him click the little heart next to the songs title that means he’s favorited it. It puts a smile on his face that he can’t explain, but he hides it behind his palm. 

   “Punk at heart,” Hobie comments idly.    
   “What?”

   “I mean you’re a punk too.” Hobie says, resting his cheek on his hand. 

   “Nah, man. I don’t got the style for it.”

   “It’s not about the aesthetic of it. That’s just individual style.” Hobie points out, making a gesture to them and the people below them. He scoffs,and rolls his eyes. It’s almost-rude, but Miles is flat-out used to Hobie’s unintentionally-aggressive attitude sometimes. 

   “For real though, even if we listen to different things. I respect that. Lots of hip-hop and rap is about the people against the elite, respecting yourself, standing up for shit you believe in. That kinda stuff. Makes it punk in its own right. And well… you in general. You got passion, for your city, for the people, art. And the fact that you’ll fight for it as spiderman? You go hard as shit.” 

  “When you put it like that you make me sound, like, amazing or something.”

  “Aren’t you?” Hobie asks, and when he looks up Miles eyes are a little wide. Hobie doesn’t flinch, just asks it again in a deadpan voice. 

   Miles nods, but he still looks a little shocked. Maybe embarrassed, but Hobie doesn’t see why what he said would be embarrassing. Especially when he means it. 

“...Sure, man.” Hobie doesn’t really hear him though, because the song had just ended and it’s onto the next. Hobie instantly recognizes it. It’s “We are 138.” 

   “Fuck yeah, I love this song!” Hobie reels in his urge to start jumping around because he knows it’ll disturb the headphones, and that’s a fate worse than death. So he just practically vibrates with energy and lets himself sink into his spot. It’s really nice.

  And Miles is cute, bobbing his head along to each song and mouthing lyrics he half-knows. If they could stay like this the entire time until the goobers fixed themselves….well. 

Hobie wouldn’t have any complaints. This was nice….

   “Dork.”

_    BANG! _   
   Something sounds off in the distance, loud and creaky. It’s followed by something that sounds like it could be a body hitting the ground, but whatever it is...it sounds painful. He feels Miles’ spider sense go off next to him.

   Miles presses pause on his phone, and looks up at Hobie.

   “Was that-,”

   “I don’t think that was the song.” He jumps up off the ground and looks over the side of the building, in the direction where the noise was coming from. He can’t see anything from here, but he can  _ feel _ it. He knows Miles does too.

   They both look at each other, and it’s like they both know exactly what the other has in mind. 

   They reach for their masks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know "We are 138" is the reason for Hobie's universe number


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda awful and paced terribly but 💞💖💖❤️ yknow

When he swings into the action, Hobie stumbles a bit onto the next rooftop. It’s because of what he sees in front of him.   
 It’s... the Prowler. Fighting a bunch of muggers? Gang members? Whatever, the regular throw-away bad guys people use for plot device. Hobie doesn’t care about them, or really the Prowler either. 

 He cares about the other spiderman only a couple feet to his left. If Hobie didn’t know the circumstance, he wouldn’t understand why Miles stops in his tracks. 

But he does know, because Miles had told him before.  

  Then again if he hadn’t known, judging by the situation he probably could have pieced it together. Being a superhero costs you things, especially people. People like friends, like family. Thankfully for Hobie he doesn’t really have either of those things, so he’s never seen someone from a different dimension who he missed. Well, there’s Gwen, but she was just a rockstar he never really knew and he has a whole rant on why idols shouldn’t be considered friends or whatever.

But fuck all of that, it looked like Miles was going to evaporate. Even through the suit. 

“Are you okay man?” Hobie debates putting a hand on his shoulder, but decided against it. Although he knows Miles well enough he doesn’t know how comfortable he is with being touched.  

“I’m,” Miles voice breaks before he can cut himself off. Hobie watches the back of his head, wondering if maybe he stares long enough he can see his thoughts. “I’m good.” 

He doesn’t sound like it, but Hobie won’t call him out. He shifts his attention to the scene playing out almost only a street away. The Prowler, (Aaron, maybe?) is moving quickly and easily, looking unbothered despite the baddies shooting at him. He’s got a bounce to his feet that Hobie watches closely, but other than that it just looks like something out of your average comic-book situation. 

“We should sit this one out, it looks like he has it covered,-” 

Miles leaps over the ledge.

“Ohfortheloveof-,” 

Hobie swings after him.

“We don’t need to do this,” Hobie mumbles when he lazily reaches out for Miles but the other kid recoils like his touch burns. Hobie pretends it doesn’t faze him as much as it really does. 

Miles says nothing before he jumps down next to the hero. Hero? Is he a hero? Anti-hero? Vigilante? Unconfirmed for now, but Hobie could think about the moral grayness of the situation later. He lands next to the two with a soft thud, and looks up to inspect the situation in front of him.

The Prowler narrows his eyes at the two of them right back, Hobie can feel it through the other man’s mask. He seems...confused?   
“Spiderman?” His masks’ eyes trail over to Hobie, who’s putting out as much of an intimidating aura as he can. “Who’s the friend?”

Before any of them can make a response though, a bullet shoots between their heads, and reminds them of the situation at hand.

Looking around, off the top of his head Hobie counts like 20 of these dudes with weapons that look a little too advanced to be just mugger-level. The bullet that pulled his attention in the first place was burning red, so maybe it did something instead of just going through someone. Whatever it was, Hobie had no means of finding out. 

Hobie sighs. They(He means Miles only of course, but they’re in it together now) really didn’t plan this well. Well, whatever. He’d fight off a couple of them for assistance of The Prowler, but as soon as he saw the chance, he was going to drag Miles’ ass away from all of this. 

He hope his dead glare at him gave away such. 

...

Miles’ head spins as he shoots his webbing, trying to disarm another one of the henchmen-types in front of him. He can sense Prowler behind him so intensely he can’t breathe, that’s _his_ _uncle_. His uncle who’s dead somewhere else, and who’s breathing right here. 

It’s only been fifteen minutes or so since they’ve joined the fight, but Miles feels himself getting more exhausted. Being in a different universe did that to him sometimes.  

  “Missed me,” He chants as he jumps across a roof of a car. Something shoots past him again, probably another bullet. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a blurb he recognizes as Hobie is speeding across the scene to punch left and right. Prowler’s not far behind him, dropping small explosives, gas pellets, and the like to lighten the load. For a split moment, Miles thinks everything is easy. No one’s done any major damage on either side, but he was able to incapacitate one of the men they were fighting against. 

    But it only takes a second of fighting for things to go to shit, and then Miles headspace is shattered into a billion little pieces. 

One of them kicks hard into the small of Prowler’s back, and the man is knocked straight off his feet into a concrete wall. There’s a crack. It’s too much for Miles to hear that, when it sounds so similar to the crack that killed his Peter, but he can’t get distracted. He thinks it’ll be fine, but Prowler hasn’t gotten back up. Miles panics. 

If he doesn’t move soon they’re gonna overwhelm Prowler, who might have gotten knocked out. Instincts kick in and he jumps to his feet, and pulls the man over his shoulder. With little thought, he hopes Hobie has things under control before he shoots over to the rooftops. Miles might have heard some very strong expletives, but it’s hard to hear anything over the loud beats of his heart. 

When he rushes and  pulls the man to safety, his hands are shaking so hard he’s almost scared he won’t be able to help. Steeling himself he squats down next to him. The situation reminds him too much of the dark alley and that day where Aaron...Aaron….yeah. Miles ignores it the best he can.

He focuses on what’s in front of him. Aaron. Why’d he bring him up here? Miles is pulling a blank, but maybe he hurt his spine when he got thrown around like that, so he should check to make sure he’s good. Miles scoots just a bit closer, to inspect.  Prowler’s mask is shoved up his face, just a bit. But It’s easily recognizable to who’s underneath, just with the slice that’s easy to make out. 

To his surprise, it’s not Aaron. 

It’s Hobie.

Well, not quite. He’s not Miles’ age, not like the other Hobie fighting right now...he’s almost a full-fledged adult. Around his early twenties or something. He even has a bit of a scruff on his face.  His nose is bleeding and it looks like it might have broken when he got hurt, but it’ll be fine.

And he’s completely knocked out. Miles sits, unsure of what to do, when Hobie’s- (well his Hobie let him call him Hobie, so this Hobie probably wanted to be addressed as Hobart) Hobart’s eyes open with a start. He juts up, looking angry. 

“ _ I _ need to get back to it,” He snaps, and yanks back his mask over his face. Miles nods, and makes to follow him but something tugs on his collar.     
“Don’t worry,  **_I_ ** took care of it. By myself.” Hobie grunts, before he pulls the both of them away from Hobie. The other Hobie, Miles means. Prowler-Hobie. Not spider-man Hobie. Wait, that still sounds confusing. 

Ok to recap, Spider-man has pulled him away from the Prowler. 

And Spider-man is pissed. 

~~~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles does have a panic attack following the last chapter, so please be wary if that triggers you. Please enjoy!

“Miles, what the fuck were you  _ fucking _ thinking!?” Hobie walks in circles, not being able to think of anything for seconds at a time without spewing profanities. 

    They’ve retreated to an abandoned warehouse, far enough away from the rest of the populous  city so they don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing Hobie’s yelling. “You’re not dumb, but even I have to admit…. That was the most idiotic shit I’ve ever seen! Do you not care about your life?! Or mine? Fuck! Miles, seriously!” One breathe in, but not one out. “It’s not like you even knew if he was a good guy or not, did you?! He could have seen one of us and tried to blow our brains out. Is that what you want? To die?” Hobie’s voice is getting shriller by the second, but he doesn’t stop. 

   How could he? Miles had put himself in danger, out of costume, without any back-up plan. As if Hobie hadn’t already been having a bad enough day- he really didn’t need Miles almost dying to top it all off. God! The goobers were up and running again, but he wasn’t about to leave before he let off a good amount of steam. And Miles was being a major pain in the ass, and Hobie needs to lecture him before he goes losing another important person to him. He wouldn’t have it, not today. 

   “Sure, we put our lives on the line all the time, that’s what being a superhero is about. But there’s nothing heroic about being an idiot! I mean come ON! This is fucking shit, and I, personally, would love to shove my head against a fucking wall right now to forget how goddamn angry I am, UGH-,” Hobie takes a step back to yell again, but what he sees stops him.

   In front of him Miles is slouched against the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor. His shoulders are shaking in a broken rhythm, and his chest heaves too quickly then too slow to be anything but frantic. 

Even if Hobie couldn’t see the tears that Miles was so clearly trying to hide, Hobie would have figured it out. Miles is having a panic attack. 

   “Shit,” Hobie blanks.  “Miles, you good man?” 

He hears a sniff, and watches as Miles’ hands gravitate towards his head. His fingers clutch down on his curls, and Miles slides to the floor. It’s not ever really a pretty sight, seeing a close friend freak out like this. Hobie’d seen an entire decade of it back when him and Robbie used to be friends, but it’s still not something he’s ever going to get used to.

   “Miles…?” 

    He replies with something more than a little garbled. It’s only repeats himself, with a shaking voice, that Hobie understands him. 

   “I-I’m sorry.” Miles’ throat sounds like its been filled with syrup, he talks so soft and slow. Any other time Hobie would have smiled at it, but he knows this voice is filled with panic. 

   “Fuck, dude wait, no,” Hobie crouches down next to him. It’s a bit uncomfortable on the warehouse floor, but life as a certified squatter has made Hobie immune to small discomforts.

   “You don’t gotta apologize. You did nothing wrong.”   
   “But, but I d..did. You. You said it?” It comes out like a question, although Hobie knows its not. “I, I messed up.”    
   “O….kay. Maybe you did?” God, he sucks at this. Verbal stuff, anyways. “But mistakes happen, when you’re anxious and shit.”  How can he fix this? He can’t, not really. It’s not like Miles’ trauma with his family is his responsibility, but Miles as his friend needs help. Fuck, okay. 

   Hobie thinks back to what his mom used to do when he’d cry as a kid, and the action is simple and nostalgic for him to carry through. When he reaches and places his hand on Miles’ shoulder he rubs small circles into Miles’ back.  All the while he carefully tries to read his body language though, to make sure he’s comfortable with it. Apparently he is though, because without another word Miles almost melts into Hobart’s shoulder in a second. O….kay. 

    The sudden change is a bit hard for Hobie to process, but because he’s not overwhelmed by the touch his brain isn’t immediately recoiling like he thought it would. Instead, he’s kind of star-struck in this pseudo hug Miles has brought him into, Miles’ face mushed against his shoulder as his tears seep into Hobie’s suit. It’s definitely for Miles’ own comfort, but that is probably what prompts Hobie to stay still in the first place. He keeps repeating and tracing circles across Miles’ suit, which gives him something mindless to do while he tries not to focus in on the awkwardness of the situation. He doubts Miles would be this comfortable with affection if he wasn’t in a sad, shitty needy state. 

    They just kind of sit like that then, in the quiet. It dawns on Hobie time has long since passed since the goobers have reached their capacity to be usable again, but it’s not as important right now. He’s content helping Miles get through each next shaky breathe, then counting each second down to help ground Miles.

    Hobie knows it’s fucked up, but this is the most human contact he’s had with anyone in years. It’s surprisingly nice, despite the rather dreary situation. 

   Eventually though, Miles is able to catch up with his breathe. When he pulls away from Hobie with a somewhat sheepish expression, he steels himself. He seems ready to talk about his issues, and Hobie’s content with listening.

   “I’m sorry for crying on you.” He states. Hobie shrugs, and there’s a pause in the conversation. Miles wipes his face with his sleeve, and lays his head against the wall. Hobie notices that Miles’ eyes are considerably less far-away and hazy, but it still looks like he has something he needs to let out.    
   “Wanna talk it out?” Hobie prompts. The words are thick in his throat. 

   “Yeah. Give me a moment.” A minute ticks by. “My- my uncle, he wasn’t a...hero. Not until things really caught up with him, I guess. Seeing him kind of made me turn back into a little kid again, when I was thirteen and still figuring everything out as Spiderman. I just thought he was back. And like, back for real, man.”

   Hobie thinks of his own family. His mom, his brother. If he had thought Abe was ok, alive, even for a split second, then he probably would’ve done the exact same thing as Miles. For all of his brother’s flaws, he would have rushed to him with every ounce of power he had in him. 

The realization doubles the mind-splitting guilt in Hobie’s brain. Fucking hypocrite. God. He should apologize. 

    But he doesn’t know how. Being anything other than angry doesn’t come naturally to him, but he’s gotta do  _ something _ . So he tries something else. 

   “Well, that Prowler’s good, right?”

    Miles doesn’t respond, but he turns his head to Hobie. It’s been the first time since they left the scene that Miles has made actual, full eye contact with him. 

    God, he looks like a kicked puppy. Hobie’s stomach turns. Although he’s certainly not good with all sensitive things or other people’s feelings, definitely not on the handling end, he’ll try to be. Just for Miles, just this once. “And you know how the multiverse is, yeah? Like how everything’s different but similar?”

   “Yeah?”   
   “Well...think about it. If he’s good, that means your uncle...if he had more time, he could’ve been good too. Like I don’t know? He was fighting against crooks. Though I don’t like to make generalizations, that’s what they where.” 

   “Huh.” Miles blinks. He lifts his head up towards the ceiling like something might appear there. “So you think he had the capacity for good?”   
    “Well everyone does, when it gets down to it. Regardless of what he was with you, maybe it means something if he’s good here. Like, Peter, right? He’s the main spider-man. There are countless different versions of him, and if there are countless different versions of Prowler that are good, your uncle, um….,” Hobie knows he’s rambling, not in his educated punk way but his nervous wobbly voice which makes him feel more self-conscious than he should. 

   “Hobie, I appreciate the comforting thought, but hold on a second. Did you see who he was?”   
   “Who?”

   Miles snorts, but there’s not really any joy behind it. “The man. The Prowler, who I thought was Aaron, but wasn’t.”

   “Oh. No. Why?” 

   Miles bites on the inside of his cheek, and leans his head to one side. His hestitance doesn’t do anything for Hobie’s nerves, but he still listens intently. 

    “Well, he was you.” Hobie sits on this for a bit. It’s hard for him to process why that’s important, or why Miles is even asking him about it, but that doesn’t matter. He needs to help Miles feel better. Like, yesterday.

   “So I was basically just talking about my own ability to be good?” Hobie groans, feeling a little embarrassed now.

   Miles snorts in response, and his hands start to do the thing where they shake a little animatedly when he gets excited. “Narcissistic, much?” 

    “What?!” Hobie says, mock offended. “How dare you, assume such a thing about me. Was I in the know? Was I trying my best? And...Was I handsome?” Hobie smirks, cupping his face with his hand. He doesn’t expect an answer, maybe just a laugh, but Miles grins and shakes his head.

   “You were so greasy. You had a  _ beard _ .”

   “What? Like, seriously?”   
   “Yeah, man.”   
   “You’re not just fucking with me?”   
   “What reason would I have to do that?” Miles grins. 

  “For starters, you are a little shit sometimes.” 

  “You had a  _ goatee- _ !”

   “Seriously? What the fuck. I’m guessing it wasn’t the type I would’ve been able to pull off?”  

   “Absolutely not. I don’t think anyone could. It was like...Jafar’s from Aladdin. But on an actual human.” 

   “Oh my god, I’m judging future not-me-me’s life choices.”

   “Me too.”

   “Will you make sure I never ever do that to myself in the future of ever?”

   “No promises,” Miles practically  _ giggles _ , and Hobie is glad to hear it. It’s such a dorky laugh but it’s so much better knowing that Miles is happy again. 

   They both smile, happy to have gotten back to the lighter mood from earlier that morning, when it gets silent again. Like this, he can hear all the creaks from around the warehouse, now that he’s taken time to listen. 

    Hobie wants to think of another joke or quip that could get Miles laughing like that again, but his train of thought is interrupted when Miles speaks up. 

“...Are you still mad at me?” 

   Hobie almost asks ‘where the fuck did that come from’, but he backtracks. Miles’ voice sounds so scared, he’s barely above a whisper. Hobie still heard every word though. The worried, anxious tone that seeps back into his voice brings Hobie’s guilt stumbling back to the forefront of his mind. The emotional whiplash is almost enough to give him a headache.    
   “No. ...I wasn’t even  _ really _ mad at you earlier.”   
   “For real?”

   “Yeah, for real. I mean I was  _ frustrated _ , obviously. But fuck no, dude. I get it- I just... didn’t want you getting yourself hurt.”

   Miles blinks at that, and he seems surprised. His look is so intense, like he’s searching

   Hobie’s face for something, that Hobie has to look at something else. 

   “Oh. Sorry.”

   “Don’t,” Hobie states, and he means it. “You’re fine. I’m sorry for being a aggressive asshole to you when you didn’t need it.”

   “It’s okay.” Hobie doesn’t believe him, but he’s so worn he doesn’t think he can go into another draining life conversation or argument with Miles without falling asleep. They can talk about it later.

   So instead he just stands up, dusts himself off, and turns to Miles. He holds his hand up to help the other boy up.

   “You sick of this place yet?”

   Miles jolts up suddenly, like he just remembered something he forgot, and nearly hits his head in the process. Hobie doesn’t bother hiding the chuckle that escapes his throat.

“Um! Wait, yeah! Give me a sec.” Miles seems to grab something from the inside of his suit(Even as a Spider-man himself, Hobie doesn’t understand any of their weird-ass suits) and walks a couple steps over till he’s right under one of the warehouse’s support beams. Hobie realizes what he’s doing when he sees him jump up and tag the beam.

   Hobie grins, looking up to admire the sticker Miles placed there. It’s his signature, in those colorful bubble graffiti letters Miles draws everywhere. 

   “Okay,  _ now _ are you ready to go?”

   “Hold-Hold on, just one more thing.” 

   Okay, Hobie’s genuinely a little annoyed now. Especially now that he has a portal for them open- He groans, “What is-,”

   Miles surges forward, and pulls Hobie into a hug. On instinct Hobie almost pulls back and punches Miles in the face, but he doesn’t. He just kind of freezes, and pats Miles on the shoulder. It’s awkward for him, but at the same time, it’s nice. Like super nice. Miles is really, really warm. 

    “Um?”   
   “Thanks. For today.” Miles doesn’t let go yet, just kind of loosens his grip a little bit so that if Hobie wants to pull away, he can. But he doesn’t.

  “Yeah. Any time, man.” Hobie feels like he sounds fake, but he really means what he says. He hopes Miles knows that too. 

    The other spider finally pulls away, and when he does, he has a bright smile on his face.

“Okay, ready now.”


End file.
